It was so sweet at first. We'd lay belly to chest and she'd pat my shoulder while I gently rubbed and patted her back. Of course, my pats were motivated -- "Burp, little girl, burp." I suppose it's a tad hopeful on my part, but I always felt like her little pats were her reassurances that she was OK with my short comings as a mother-of-two.
Our postures have changed as she's grown. Now I kick back on the pillows and she starts with her head in my lap. Of course depending on the tenor of the evening, she can be all over the place on that big bed. But she almost always settles back down to the head on the lap position. She still loves to be caressed.
Now Delila is a "Bond". Sure, she's got that red hair -- but there's red on both sides of the family, so it's unfair to say she's got "my hair". Her face shape is all Bond, and she's got those brown eyes. She's stubborn like here Daddy ~wink~ and just like him, she loves a light touch. Me? I'm a deep tissue girl. If someone's going to take the time to rub my back, I want to know it's been done. Knead those muscles! Not 'Lila. She likes a feather touch. And true to form, it has to be done her way. She'll lift her shirt, direct my hand to her back or belly -- never both. Just the finger tips, please -- until her midsection is covered with goose bumps. And don't stop! If you do, she'll just pick your hand up and put it back where it's supposed to be. And if you go too slow, well, she'll fix that too. She's a girl who knows what she likes. No doubt about it!